Do not be weary in doing well, for we shall reap if we do not faint; so, take courage, take heart and move forward.
The passion he expressed in his hopes to see such harmony amongst all people is nothing short of the soul of heaven. All I cared about was that I had to be more intentional moving forward.
So, as we go through the darkest and coldest time of year, may the light of Christ not only shine into and warm our hearts but spread out through us into the world. “The light shines in the darkness,” John reminds us, “and the darkness has never mastered it” (John 1:5).
This false belief led me, for many years, to a relationship with God based on fear. Operating in that space, heaven was quiet - and little wonder. I was not able to hear God over my own certainty of what my life was supposed to look like, who I was supposed to be and what was possible on this Earth for my life and the lives of others.
The tradition isn’t about us learning to wait for Christmas, an annual henpecking on delayed gratification, a time for introverts to bemoan shopping centers for creeping carols ever nearer to Halloween. The calendar is reminding us to watch for Christ, though our patience is worn.
A man with six months seems the inverse of Advent: an expectant mother and Israel’s long hoped for Messiah.
Six months to live and six months to bear a child: are they dissimilar themes?
Nothing worthwhile is ever without effort.
The Monkey Bars showed me that being fearfully and wonderfully made in God’s image doesn’t mean that we’re all made to do the same things.
Sometimes, courage means slipping your hand into His and trusting that wherever He leads, He will not withhold his presence.
Yes, this is Thanksgiving season and devastation is still all around, but so is the presence of God.
And for that, I give thanks.